


Like the Italian Summer Sky

by i_have_a_navy



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_have_a_navy/pseuds/i_have_a_navy
Summary: "The sky in Crema is a really nice blue. Your eyes are the Italian summer sky.""Bullshit," Armie answers, a grin blooming in his face and a fond look in his Italian summer sky eyes.





	Like the Italian Summer Sky

It's another interview. More promo for the film. They are tired. Even Timothée, usually so happy and hyper is now rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms in a failed attemp to keep the sleep away. 

Armie is even more tired but Armie is always slightly tired.

"Let's talk about the iconic Peach Scene," the interviewer says excitedly. It cuts right through their exhaustion and brings them back to the present. "The sexiest scene of the film I've heard some say," she wiggles her eyebrows.

Armie's smile is slightly forced. Timothée's isn't far behind.

***

They are sprawled on the bed. It's a big bed, there is enough space for each of them to stretch and not touch but their limbs are still tangled in some places. The silence is a comfortable one, they have a lot of those nowadays. The white ceiling is more appealing than having eye contact until Timothée, always impatient, lets his eyes drift so they reach the tan chiseled face beside him. 

Timothée feels sleep crawling all over him but Armie is there. Armie is there finally letting Timothée get close after what feels like decades. They are physically close all the time, Armie beside him in interviews, Armie with his hand on Timmy's shoulder however, it's not Crema. Timothée needs it to be Crema.

A hand slowly and tentatively touches his face and stops the train of thought. The movements are random and terribly soft until they find Timothée's chapped lips. Timothée lets him and presses a tiny soft kiss on the wandering fingers. 

Armie sighs deeply and allows his hand to fall until it's buried in Timmy's curls where they tug lightly.

"Come over," his tone holds a please. 

Timothée looks at him with hazy eyes and notes that Armie's eyes are closed. He wants to poke him. 

_Look at me._

Armie's head falls to the side as if he'd heard him speak and when he finally lifts his eyelids Timothée realizes for the millionth time how goddam blue his eyes are. Blue like the Italian summer sky. 

For a cliché moment time stops. Wind comes in from the open windows and rustles the curtain. Armie's legs are entwined with Timothée's. His hand is slowly caressing Timothée's chin. A soft smile forms in Armie's lips. Timothée feels a lump in his throat and feels his eyes get wet. Timmy feels a tear drop onto his cheek, hurriedly turns his head and brings a hand to his face. 

Armie frowns.

Timothée clears his throat to try and keep a normal act. "Sorry, it's your eyes. They blind me."

Armie lets out a dry laugh. 

"Don't let my ego grow," he says, playing along.

Armie expects a retort but silence answers. He can only see Timmy's dark curls, always messy yet perfect at the same time. 

"Timothée?" Armie gets up on his elbow and tentatively touches the hand on Timmy's face. 

"I'm okay." Timothée says as he skitters off the bed. It's almost like he's running away. Trying to escape something. Trying to escape _someone_.

Timothée's back is to Armie. His shirt is all rumpled and untucked, Armie aches to grab him.

"Sure you are."

Timothée sighs.

The bed creaks softly. "Tell me."

"This is temporary for you," Timothée states it like a fact and Armie stares at his delicate back. "But..."

Armie knows where this is going. He knows and he won't stop it.

"I don't want _to be_ fucking temporary." Timothée whirls around, his eyes all red and watery, one of his hands in his hair and his voice cracks. They stare at each other, Timothée's vibrant green eyes staring into Armie's wide ones. Suddenly Timothée can't hold back tears, he drops his head and lets a quiet sob escapes him. In the soft light of the room he looks like a child, his body more delicate than usual.

Something in Armie breaks and he jumps off the bed. "Timmy..."

Armie is a few feet away and Timothée's tone startles him. "Don't fucking do your father act on me, Armie. I'm not one of your kids," he holds his hand out, almost touching Armie's chest.

In the time they've been together Armie has never heard Timmy speak like that. His hand falters in the air reaching for Timmy.

Armie bites his lip. "I'm..." he stutters. 

Timothée was falling apart right in front of him and all Armie could do was stutter. 

His face hardens. "Don't tell me what to fucking do," he strides to Timmy as Timothée lifts his head a look of bright anger on his face, puts his hand on his back and pushes him to his chest. 

"I love you." Armie whispers onto his hair. "Don't do this to yourself."

Timothée tries to push him away. "Don't you tell me..."

Armie can feel his shirt get wet and hugs Timmy harder.

He brings back far away memories. Timmy's loud laughter. His smirks that appear whenever Armie says something filthy. Armie remembers with fondness the feeling of a complete life, eating peaches and bantering back and forth until it became outright flirting with cocked eyebrows, insinuation and purposeful tongues licking already wet lips. 

They had never done anything apart from what was expected of them but fuck had they felt it. It was everywhere. In the hugs that were too long and tight to be considered "just friendly", in the kisses that begun with Armie softly pecking Timmy's forehead and ended with Armie softly, kissing Timmy's neck. And Timothée always so pliant let Armie, opened up to Armie, telling him weird secrets and kissing his cheek while Armie kissed his neck, acting like it was the most normal thing.

There were times when the door of the room closed and it was just them. Timothée would bury his head in Armie's chest and Armie just held him while swaying slightly.

Some of the things they did they didn't use words for, they were as natural as breathing and terribly domestic.

Sometimes they shouted at the top of their lungs. Feeling "so fucking alive" as Armie liked to say, a huge grin on his face that prompted Timmy to laugh and lean in to him.

Crema was everything.

"Yeah, I'm in love with you."

Armie had known this. He'd known for a really long time. He had felt it for even longer. It didn't feel like a big reveal it was like stating an obvious fact.

 _The sky is blue and I'm in love with this marvelous human being._  

Timothée grips Armie's shirt. Armie moves his hands up and down Timothée's back until he gingerly lets go of Armie's shirt and puts his arms around him. Timmy turns his head so that his cheek is on Armie's chest 

"Thank you."

"I don't-" 

"The sky in Crema is a really nice blue. Your eyes are the Italian summer sky." Timothée raises his head and Armie looks down at him, their arms are still around each other. 

_I don’t deserve you._

"Bullshit," he answers, a grin blooming in his face and a fond look in his Italian summer sky eyes.

Timothée bites his lip, Armie’s eyes follow.

"Beautiful bullshit."

"Ravishing," Armie says against Timmy’s lips and feels his finger poke Armie’s side. 

He laughs and tugs on Timmy's hair. 

 ***

They fall sleep, at least Armie does _._ Timothée's eyes hurt a bit and he is almost sleep but he tries to hold on to the feeling of Armie's arms surrounding his chest, their entwined hands, his chin on Timmy's curls, the sound of his soft breathing and their tangled legs. Armie is all around him. Timothée buries his face in their hands and Armie pulls him impossibly closer, kissing his neck.

_Me love you._

**Author's Note:**

> I love this, I hope you like it too. This little writer at your service :D  
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer are bro goals in real life and nothing else.


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